


Reminds Me of Us

by one_of_those_crushing_scenes



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Breathplay, Choking Kink, Don't Try This At Home, Exes, F/M, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pool Sex, Swimming Pools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 08:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20404951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_of_those_crushing_scenes/pseuds/one_of_those_crushing_scenes
Summary: It's all very sudden.





	Reminds Me of Us

**Author's Note:**

> Warning, there is a single instance of someone saying "Daddy" in a sexual manner in this fic. I’m so sorry.

It’s a Wednesday August afternoon, and Bobbi Morse is living it up—that is to say, she's doing absolutely nothing. Well, aside from lounging in an inflatable tube in the Avengers pool in her new retro orange and white striped bikini, a mai tai in a flamingo-themed drink holder floating next to her, and an enormous pair of sunglasses on her face. The augmented reality enhancements recently installed on this floor include a holographic sky with an unbelievably realistic “sun” and ambient outdoor sounds which really sell the effect. She'd swear she could even make out a whiff of sunscreen.

The sound of moving water combined with the warmth of sunlight on her skin lulls her into a relaxed state of body and mind. She’s about to drift off entirely when a wave of cold water splashes onto her face and chest, startling her out of what was about to be a very satisfying afternoon nap.

Opening her eyes, she sees a figure outlined by the sun. Her instincts take over before she knows it, causing her to jump out of the pool and go on the attack, wrestling the intruder to the ground...right as her senses kick in and she recognizes her ex-husband. Okay, not a would-be murderer, but he did disturb her rest very rudely, so she doesn't hold back, leaping on top of him and wrapping her legs around his neck in a choke hold. She doesn't apply any pressure, but she's satisfied that she's proved her point. But instead of tapping out or fighting back, he does the last thing she expects: he lets out a groan and a, “Yes, daddy; choke me harder.”

She freezes. What the hell? Okay, it's been a few years since they were together, but he's never expressed any interest in choking during sex. Handcuffs, blindfolds, sure, they both liked trying out new things in the bedroom, but nothing potentially dangerous.

Of course, he might be joking. But that tone of voice....

Without meaning to, she sneaks a glance down at his shorts and notices that he's definitely erect. And that...that changes everything.

Is _she_ interested in breath play?

Realizing that she's still got him trapped between her thighs, she disentangles herself, then offers a hand to help him up. "Should I ask?" she says. "Or would you prefer me to pretend you didn't say that?" 

He has the grace to look embarrassed as he takes her hand and pulls himself to a standing position. “I am _so_ sorry. It just...slipped out.”

“Uh-huh.” She nods in the direction of his tented swim trunks. “And that?”

Clint looks down, then grins at her. “It knows what it likes, what can I say?” She puts her hands on her hips, and he adds, “Just ignore it; it’ll go away.”

"Yeah, okay." _Think non-awkward thoughts._ She glances back at the pool, thinking about her interrupted leisure time.

"Don't let me stop you," Clint says.

Okay. This can still be normal if they try really hard. Bobbi sits at the edge of the pool and hops back in, with him following her. Everything feels a little brighter, a little more intense. As he moves through the water, the ripples cause the water to lap at her sides, and she shivers.

“So, what have you been up to?” Clint asks.

“Not much, lately." She ducks under the water, coming up all wet and leaning against the wall. "The girls at Nadia’s lab just went back to school this week, so I’ve got a little more free time than usual.”

“Oh. Nadia, too?”

“Yeah, it turns out that as well-educated as she is in certain fields, she’s got lots of gaps in her education, and while Jan thought Nadia could probably fill them in on her own, she wanted the 'American high school experience.' So...look out, Cresskill High, here comes Nadia Van Dyne.”

“Hmph. I never got the high school experience, and I turned out—” he stops in reaction to Bobbi’s raised eyebrow and head tilt. “She should go to high school, that’s sensible.”

Bobbi laughs. “Listen, maybe once she graduates, she can take a gap year and work as a lion tamer.”

“No way," Clint protests. "Those guys are shady. I’d never let anyone I cared about become a lion tamer.” He rolls his eyes and makes a _pffft_ sound. “Honestly, Morse. Get real.”

“Right, right.” Looking up at the ceiling, marveling again at how much it looks like a clear sky, she continues, “Anyway, with all this new free time, I remembered how Jen’s been telling me all summer that I need to stop by and check out this new ‘outdoors mode’ they put in here, which by the way is incredible, but when I got here, it turns out the Avengers are out of town.”

Clint nods. “I heard the same rumor when I showed up.”

Feeling a little guilty about using the Avengers' facilities while they were off saving the world, she asked Jarvis if they needed any help, but apparently they'd checked in a few hours earlier and had everything under control. Just sorting out the aftermath of whatever monster battle they’d taken part in. And if she was here anyway, and not needed elsewhere, why not take advantage? "Well, how about you?”

“Arm day,” he says, drawing her gaze to his very well-built arm muscles. “I was on my way into the gym, but Jarvis told me you were in here, so I decided to say hi. I happened to have these,” he indicates his gray swimming trunks, “in my locker. When I saw how foolishly you’d left your guard down, I felt it was my responsibility—”

“Responsibility, my ass.” She laughs. “You just couldn’t resist poking the bear.”

“You looked so peaceful,” he admits. “How could I see such a beautiful scene and _not_ wreck it?”

“Dumbass,” she responds affectionately. Glancing down, she notices that his erection is still there, straining against his trunks. An impulse hits her to reach out and touch it, and she mentally smacks her hand away. If they were still together, this would be a perfect moment to turn up the heat. But...

Clint catches her gaze head-on and doesn't blink. “Like I said, it knows what it likes."

Oh. She feels herself growing warm. This is such a bad idea.

But, despite the common assumption, _he_ wasn't the impulsive one in their relationship. “Take them off,” she blurts out.

His jaw drops. “The—?”

“The trunks. Take them off. Show me,” she says. _Show me how well it knows what it likes._

He might very well say no. They’ve never had a problem flirting with each other after their divorce, but this is a huge step from that. She may have just crossed the line, maybe even done irreparable damage to their—

Clint puts his hands behind him at the edge of the pool and hoists himself out of the water. He balances himself on one arm while he pulls off his trunks with the other, then throws the garment at her. With a laugh, she bats it away, then wades in closer to get a good look. Always comfortable in the nude, Clint leans back on his arms and lets his legs fall a little open. He looks as fine as he always has with his toned gymnast's body, his chiseled thighs, the fine blonde leg hair shining in the artificial sunlight. And his cock...well, there are regular hard-ons, and then there’s this. It’s so hard it’s practically vibrating, such a dark red it’s nearly purple. She can’t look away.

“Did you, like, take three Viagras before you came out here?” Bobbi asks. She expects him to laugh, but he doesn’t. She looks up to find him watching her, his face pained. “Hey. You okay, Sport?”

“Yeah, totally fine,” he chokes out. A part of her loves this evidence that she still has an effect on him. She can recite a list of all the reasons they broke up, but she can’t deny that she still has feelings for him.

She wraps her fingers around it, rubs her thumb gently over the head, and he hisses. “It’s been a while for you, huh?” she asks.

“No...actually.” His voice is strained, a pause after each syllable as if he’s having trouble remembering the words. “I went...on a date. About a week ago.”

“Oh?” She continues running her thumb around the head and up and down his shaft, testing his reactions.

“Michelle. Is her name. She’s a property—oh, fuck, keep doing that—a property developer.” 

“I see. And did you ask this Michelle to choke you?” She stills her hand so that she can get a proper answer. 

“I did not,” he admits. “I've never been interested in being choked until about five minutes ago.” 

“And now you're interested?”

He looks down at his dick. “You tell me.”

Bobbi laughs. "So, Michelle." She's not jealous—well, not _much_—but she has to know before deciding whether this is going to go any further. Taking her hand away, she asks, "Are you planning on seeing her again?" 

"No, she, uh, she said my 'lifestyle' made her nervous."

"Well, she's not wrong. That would scare off any sensible partner," Bobbi concedes. She herself hasn't even considered dating anyone who's not "in the game."

She places her hand on his torso and drags her fingers across his chest, across the smattering of hair between his pecs, savoring the sound of his breath catching as one of her nails catches on his nipple.

His cock is sticking straight up, begging for her attention back, but she's ready to savor this. Slowly, slowly, she runs her hand down his chest toward his stomach. "And you want to explore this newfound interest now?"

He nods. 

_You trust me enough for that?_ she wants to ask, but it's a silly question. He's per his hands in her life too many times for his trust in her to be a question, and she's well-trained enough to know exactly how to make him light-headed without causing damage. She pulls her hands off him to make sure he's not distracted, then speaks in a clear, direct tone. "I'm not going to choke you," she says, then clarifies. "I mean, I'm not going to cut off your airway. I'll put pressure on your arteries, which will make you feel faint, and if you feel even for a second like you're going to lose consciousness, you tap out. Understand?"

"Tap out before fainting. Got it." He nods, then raises his hips off the ground in a way that says, _Can we get to the good stuff now?_

"Promise me," Bobbi says.

"I promise." He looks at her fondly, and she's filled with a rush of affection for this wildly insensible, overly-trusting man.

His cock hasn't been deterred by the break in action. It's still as hard and as dark as it was when he first undressed. Bobbi finally closes her hand around it with a firm grip, and it twitches at the contact. 

"Oh, God," Clint murmurs, his head falling back. His body is at a forty-five degree angle off the ground, his lower legs dangling in the pool while he leans backward on his elbows, letting his hips rise to meet her. "More, Birdie."

The old nickname is soothing, reminding her that for all they've been through, for all the hurt and tears, when they get down to their roots, they're still just Bobbi and Clint, Birdie and Sport.

She stands in the water between his legs and kisses him on the sternum. Using water from the pool as lubrication, she strokes his shaft with one hand and uses her free hand to caress the side of his face before running her fingers through his hair.

Clint turns his head toward her hand, catching her fingers with his mouth and parting his lips. That's right, she'd almost forgotten this particular preference of his. Taking the hint, she gently pushes her pointer finger into his wet mouth, dragging it along his inner lip and then over his front teeth, resting the tip of her finger on his tongue. He closes his mouth around her finger, and looks up at her. Open, trusting, beautiful. She feels a warmth blooming in her belly as he starts to unravel for her.

"You look so good like this," Bobbi says. They loved each other so much, didn't they? It hurts to remember.

She refocuses her efforts down below, and his moans start to get louder and more desperate. When she figures he's close enough, Bobbi takes one of his hands and uses it to replace her own, then she pushes herself out of the pool and straddles him. "You finish," she instructs as she brings her hands to his neck. She starts out nice and easy by stroking lightly up and down the column of his neck. Their bodies are pressed together at this angle, and she can feel his hand moving between them, jerking himself to completion. 

Gradually, she starts to apply very gentle pressure to both sides of his neck. His hand works frantically down below, and after a few seconds, his body tenses, his hips buck up toward her and he freezes in midair for what seems like an eternity before his entire body relaxes and he comes, shooting spurts of semen over both their stomachs. It's messy and beautiful and more than a little disconcerting. She makes sure to take her hands away from his neck before he finishes. Once the pulsing stops, she waits for him to open his eyes and say something, but he doesn’t move. Five seconds go by. Six. Seven.

“Clint?" No answer. "Oh my God, are you—?”

His eyes flutter open. “That was the craziest thing I’ve ever felt in my life."

He’s okay. She laughs in relief. Just normal, post-orgasm bliss.

"And I’ve grown thirty feet in less than a second," he adds.

"Well, I hope that satisfies your curiosity," she says, punching him in the arm, "because I'm never doing that again. And I don't want you to, either."

He's got a goofy smile on his face. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m serious, do you know how freaked out I was just now?”

He reaches out and touches a loose lock of her hair, threading it between his fingers. “I’m sorry I scared you. I love you.”

He says it so easily, and she doesn’t know whether to say it back or not—of course she loves him too, but it’s not like they’re _together_ and an _exchange_ of “I love you”s is different from one person saying it to another to reassure them after a scare—

“We’ve got to clean off,” Clint says before she can decide whether to say it or not. She follows his gaze to the shower a few feet away, a curved pole standing over a teak drain cover. “Come on.”

He leads the way over and turns on the shower. The water is cold, and she startles when it hits her skin, but Clint slides his arms around her from behind to steady her. She leans into him and lets him wash her stomach with his hands, squealing as he hits a few ticklish spots on the way. He laughs and keeps scrubbing away, leaving a trail of heat on her skin wherever he touches.

“I think I’m good,” she says once he's gotten it all off. “Can I get you?”

He drops his hands, and she turns to face him. Tilting her head up to get a good look at him, she rises onto her toes to give him a quick kiss before getting down to business, working the water onto his chest and stomach, making sure to get out all traces of semen. If she spends a little more time than necessary on his abs, well, she’s just trying to do a thorough job.

“All right, that’s enough,” he says, and without giving her a chance to respond, he lifts her up and prompts her to wrap her arms and legs around him, then presses her against the pole and kisses her. She returns the kiss greedily, savoring the feel of his open mouth, the softness of his lips and the roughness of his tongue. God, it’s been so long, and he knows exactly how to get her worked up...

The shower pole is pressing into her back as he moves his mouth to her neck, worshipping the delicate skin at her pulse point with his teeth and tongue, coaxing a deep moan out of her.

“You like that?” It’s rhetorical, and he doesn’t wait for an answer before moving his head lower, getting his hands under her thighs so that he can lift her higher and kiss his way down her chest, right between her breasts where skin meets fabric.

Meanwhile, the pole at her back is starting to get on her nerves. “Mmm, I love it, but can we take this somewhere that doesn’t have a pole digging into my back?”

He pulls his head back. “You got it.” Unexpectedly, he shifts her entire body weight onto him and starting to walk while holding her. It throws her off balance, causing her to let out an inadvertent yelp and dug her nails into his arms.

“You’re going to drop me!” she protests. “I’m no lightweight.” And she’s gained a lot in muscle mass since the last time they were together.

“Don’t worry, neither am I.” He keeps walking along the side of the pool, and she catches sight of her abandoned drink floating around in the water. When he reaches his destination, he sits them down at the edge of the water with her on his lap before sliding the two of them inside. The water laps around her chest as Clint lets her go and then circles around her, so that she’s facing the wall, with him behind her. “You have something in mind?” she asks, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“Yeah, I do.” One hand spans her waist while the other one reaches out toward the pool wall, running his fingers up and down the wall as if seeking something. Bobbi’s stomach drops as she realizes what he’s looking for. This was a very good idea, indeed.

“There we go,” he says. Putting both hands on her waist, he maneuvers her a little to the left. “Hold on,” he instructs, and she puts her hands on the edge of the pool as he slides his hands down to her thighs pulls them apart as he lifts her right in front of the water jet. 

The stream of water hits her with a gentle force right between her legs. “Oh God!"

Clint kisses her shoulder. “Good?”

She hums appreciatively and spreads her thighs a little wider in response. While she's enjoying the sensation of the water pressing into her, she feels his fingers start to sneak in from underneath her thighs, under the elastic edge of her swimsuit bottoms. He starts to explore the heat between her legs leisurely, almost lazily, as if he's more interested in playing with her body than in actually bringing her off. 

She lets her head relax into the crook of his neck. The thought occurs to her that the same body part of his that she was just exerting control over is now supporting her in return. Give and take, ebb and flow, support and be supportive. They have—_had_, she reminds herself—something so good.

They’re moving so little that they’re not even disturbing the water around them. The jet applies the perfect amount of pressure clit like the world’s quietest vibrator while her ex-husband’s fingers rub her pussy. The water surrounds them, making her feel safe, supported, cocooned even. There's something unfurling deep inside her belly, and she has a faint sense of her orgasm starting to build from far away. She grasps onto that feeling, focusing on it until everything else fades into the background. The only things in her world are the steady stream of water at her core, Clint's fingers sliding between her lower lips, and the sounds of his gentle kisses dotting her shoulder. He circles her entrance a few more times, then breaches her with his thick fingers, slowly opening her up, and the pleasure overtakes her. It feels like her entire pelvis is expanding, swelling with pleasure and then releasing it in gentle waves, starting from the inner muscles of her vaginal wall and radiating outward. She feels his fingers more intensely inside of her with every pulse, every flutter, and she rides the sensation as long as it lasts.

Without waiting for her to come down from the high, Clint slips his fingers out of her body and pushes against the fabric of her bathing suit bottom. "More," he growls. "Can I take this off?" 

"Mmm. Feel free.” She's entirety satisfied from this orgasm and predicts that the next one will be more for him than for her, but she's plenty happy to oblige.

He peels the fabric off of her and then turns her around to face him. He sets her at the edge of the pool, water rushing down her legs. Goosebumps break out all over her skin, but they don't bother her—she can't focus on anything aside from him setting his hands on her knees, pushing them apart, leaning in, and starting to feast. 

_Oh._ Okay, she may have spoken prematurely earlier when she thought he would enjoy this more than—_ohhhhh_. All thoughts flee her mind as he seals his lips around her clit and sucks hard. He digs in eagerly, his chin sliding around in the mess of her juices, and she arches her back and presses herself to him, encouraging the decadence. She's going to explode out of her skin any minute now, she's sure of it. 

His blond head moves in a frenzy between her legs, and she’s barely recovered from her first orgasm, overstimulated in a way that’s almost painful, teetering at the edge—Bobbi takes one of her hands and grabs the front of his hair and pulls him closer, closer, his tongue rough against her swollen labia, her clit, more, more, more—

This time, she goes off like a rocket, thighs clamping around his head and body thrashing wildly, everything bursting out of her all at once. She can’t distinguish between one wave of pleasure and the next; it’s one long continuous orgasm until she’s left completely drained, wrung out and lying on her back with her legs dangling out into the pool like limp spaghetti. All she can do is lie back and moan through the residual aftershocks while Clint finds her bathing suit bottom and puts it back on her.

The elastic snaps around her waist, and she continues to lie there, feeling her heartbeat slowly return to normal.

“You okay?” Clint asks, looking extremely self-satisfied, as if he hadn’t been reduced to a mindless mess himself just a few minutes earlier.

"Living the dream," she answers with a breathless laugh. Her strength starts to return, and she slides back into the water, her body bumping into his. She grabs the wall for balance, then laughs again. "This was...wow, this was not what I expected to happen when I left the house today."

"Yeah, me neither." He rubs his cheek like he's a little embarrassed. "I mean, I had those gym plans."

"Well, go on, then," Bobbi teases, smacking his shoulder lightly. Casually, because she's not sure what her play here is. His unreturned _I love you_ from earlier is still on her mind, but what if he didn't mean it like that? "You can't skimp on the workouts, not at our age."

"Yeah, Thanos isn't going to take it easy on me next time we fight him just because I got lucky," he quips. He looks around for his discarded trunks and finds them floating in the middle of the pool, then swims out and puts them on while she watches and wonders.

Residual love, maybe that's what he was referring to, as opposed to the kind of love that sees a future. If she blurts it out now, and he has to let her down, it would mar this whole memory. But what if there's an opening here and she's missing her chance?

He climbs out of the pool, then picks up his gym bag from the seat where he left it. "See you later, then?" 

"Yeah." The words are stuck in her throat. She watches him start to walk away, then calls after him, "Hey, are you doing anything for dinner?" 

He stops and turns around. "Uh, no. No plans."

“Do you want to go somewhere and eat?”

His face lights up. "Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”


End file.
